October Gems

Hey everyone. I’m glad you like the last piece: The Apple Tasting. Thanks for reading! It was fun to write. Setting up the next few posts, it became apparent that I’ll have to go back a chapter or two before we go forward again. I hope you enjoy this excerpt too.

Calluna sat gently, carefully nursing her insulted tailbone, eyes closed, sunbathing in an armchair in the sunny living room. The relative silence of the house, compared to her apartment in the city, was soothing and much appreciated by her ears. Only the tick-tock of the wall clock broke the silence.

“Merow?” Helsinki asked from below at her left elbow.

Calluna cracked open an eye, taking a deep breath, smelling the dusty, waxy scent of old house and groaned, unwilling to be disturbed but looked down anyway to see what she wanted.

It was her parents’ long haired tuxedo cat asking if she could sit in Calluna’s lap, flipping her tail across the warm, brown, oak floor like an impatient mop.

“You want to come up? Come.” Calluna patted her lap lazily, relieved that it was nothing more, feeling sleepy in the warm autumn light.

Immediately Helsinki was up, turning several circles before flopping down in her new nest with a soft sigh and laid her head on her front paws.

Stroking her soft, black fur, Helsinki purring in response, Calluna began to relax again despite the pain and closed her eyes to the bright sun.

But her rest wasn’t to last very long though.

Bang! bang! bang! there was a sound of something hitting the wooden front door, followed by a loud rattling of someone shaking it.

Calluna nearly jumped through her skin.

Helsinki leapt out of her lap with a thump! as she hit the floor, scattering for safety behind the couch only two glowing eyes betraying her presence.

Calluna, partially recovering from her fright, grabbed a stick she brought home from a walk months ago and cautiously approached the front door, tense with fear, pain forgotten.

The rattling of the door was now accompanied by some panicked shouts, “let me in, let me in!” 

Peering through the window in the door, what Calluna saw utterly dissolved her apprehension.

There was a young man in his thirties, clutching his arm, the sleeve gradually reddening with blood. His face was turned from her, looking back over his shoulder, revealing only a shock of thick brown hair.

Throwing open the door, she hustled him in onto one of the small bistro chairs on the enclosed porch. “What happened? Do you need me to call someone for you?”

“Take these.”  He handed her a handful of stones and what looked like a memory card for a camera.  He glanced through the window behind him and heaved a sigh. “I need your help.  Get me. . .” he rattled off a few items and Calluna dashed off to the bathroom to fetch them.

Setting the items in a little soap dish to prevent them from rolling under anything or otherwise being lost, she hurried back with the requested first aid items.  “You’re hurt, did you want me to call someone?”

“No!”  He said this quietly, but with some force, his hazel eyes flashed under brown brows.  “Where did you put those things I gave you?”

“They’re inside did you want them?”

“No, keep them safe for me.”  He panted while bandaging his arm.  “What is your name?”

“Calluna.”

“John Brislauer.”  He smiled and nodded his head.  He glanced around him once more.  “Thank you Calluna, I think they’re gone now.”

“Are you sure you’re OK?  You sure you don’t want me to call someone?”  Calluna confirmed with him, brows drawn together, unconvinced as she crouched on the chair opposite.

“I’ll be fine.”  He smiled at her again, vacating the little chair and leaving a strange gap in the atmosphere.

Calluna, a little jangled by his swift appearance and departure, shook her blonde head trying to to understand what just happened and returned the bathroom to have a good look at the things John had left her.

She took the curious objects in her hands.  The dozen stones looked like coloured pieces of glass that you would find on the beach, irregular in shape but clear and brightly coloured.  Some were green, others a dirty white.  There was a deep blue one and even a red one.  Were these uncut jewels?  She wondered. Beachglass doesn’t usually endanger one’s health or life, remembering the slash on his arm.  She would ask her dad.  He would know better and would advise her of what to do. 

The most interesting piece though, looked like a memory chip and turned it about in her fingers.  It was about half an inch square, flat and black, except where there was a rusty red deposit on it.  Another object caught her eye. Like the chip, it was a bit different from the rest. She picked it up, one of the green stones.  She wasn’t quite sure what was different about it, just something. She stared at it as if she could force it to give up its secrets that way.

Setting the sparkly gems back down in a small dish, she shuffled back to the living room, wincing. The up and down and back and forth between the bathroom and the front porch began to irritate her hips and tailbone. The fall she had yesterday wasn’t about to let itself be forgotten. 

A flash of movement out the window caught her eye and she pulled back the edge of the curtain, sidling sideway to stay out of view. She saw John dash across the street and disappear into the park beyond.  Where did he get the stones? Who slashed him? Did he steal them? Why did he leave them with her? She nibbled her lower lip before dropping the edge of the curtain and returning to her armchair.

She shook her head and picked up her novel again and tried to read and forget. But her mind was far from amendable, drawing her back to her day, making her wonder when her dad would come home and if John would be okay. She gazed out the window, the river glinting in the afternoon sun, concentration and peace shattered.